Dallas Winston in New York
by Bob Stage
Summary: Dallas' third and final year in New York. Dallas faces the pain that turns him into a ruthless hood. Nominee for the Greaser's Choice Awards 2006. R&R would be highly appreciated.
1. Dallas

**Dallas Winston in New York **

I do not own the Outsiders

Chapter 1

Dallas Winston woke up itchy. He scratched himself while he put on his leather jacket. "Bugger New York" he grumbled as he stretched his arms. He was fourteen, tall, tough, and grumpy in the morning. He had lived in New York for three years now, and had spent the half of all those nights on the streets, and the other half in jail. Dallas looked around. He had spent this night in a dumpster that had been mercifully empty. Judging by the number of cars and people, it was around 10:00 am. It was another day on the wild side of New York for Dallas Winston. Dallas leaned against a telephone pole, groping in his pocket for a cigarette. He found nothing, but that would change when the gang showed. "No use waitin' here" Dally muttered and started walking down the street looking for some action. New York was a really big city and depending on where you were, it was different. There were a lot of decent neighbourhoods in the city. But the place where Dallas hung out was as bad as it got. Rape, kidnapping, fights, and death was always possible. Dallas didn't care, because his friends were the kind who'd do it. And if it came to it, he wouldn't be scared to fight.

Dally had been walking for a while now. He grinned as he pictured a snobby, well- dressed kid with his posse looking in awe at a dangerous, tough hood like him. And Dallas was tough. He had been arrested at the age of ten when he'd almost half killed a guy who had been twice his size. He remembered it very well. He had been hanging out with an old friend of his who had moved away a month later, when this cute girl walks by. Dallas couldn't resist but to say really nasty stuff about her until she began to cry. Then her boyfriend showed up; he had been a husky hazel-eyed 16-year-old. He thought Dally's friend, who would have stood up for her if he hadn't arrived, had made her cry. Neither Dallas nor his friend was ready for the teenager knocking Dally's friend out cold with a blow to the face. Dally had gotten really angry. His old man hated him and had used to kick him around until Dallas had gotten big enough to kick back. Then he just stopped knowing Dallas was even alive. Seeing the leer on the guy's face after he did what he thought was awesome made Dally pull out his blade. He didn't even warn the guy, but screamed swear words at him as he stomped him. It didn't take long for the cops to arrive and wrestle Dally off the teenager. Dallas had stayed in jail for two weeks until the cops had to call his dad and make him pick up his juvenile son. During the time in jail, Dally had 'celebrated' his eleventh birthday. Dally just got worse then on, and he started to become used to the sight of the police station.

He never saw the girl or her boyfriend again. Dallas liked to think they were forced to move away as the cops were worried that Dally would kill them both. He never could figure out what he would have done if given the chance, but mostly didn't care. He was Dallas Winston and he didn't care about any sissy girl and her jerk of a boyfriend.

Chapter 2

It was an hour before Dallas found the place he was looking for. It was one of pedestrian malls in New York. It had everything: restaurants, bookshops, corner shops, stalls, video stores, music stores, even a theatre. People went there all the time because there was something for everyone at any time of day. There was always a huge variety of people there from everywhere in the city. Dallas could have found at least a hundred people like him with if he'd wanted to, but he didn't feel like looking hard. He never looked for the gang, it either found him or he just ran into it. Dally walked past a hot dog stall as two good-looking girls walked by. He stared at their backsides and whistled. The two of them looked back at him scathingly and one of them cussed at him. Dallas spat at her feet, grinned and walked on. He liked to do stuff like that. It seemed as if he was born to it.

Dallas looked around for one of those shops where they sell a bit of everything. He had enough money for cigarettes, but mostly just stole them. It was easy for him to do. The first time he did it was when he was five. He had been at a shop with his cousin. He had seen a pack of gum he liked, and without thinking, took it. It was no problem; he had almost made it out of the shop when an elderly woman had shrieked "Thief!" and had grabbed him by the ear. Dally had just managed to get out of the situation of punishment when Dally's cousin had torn him out of the lady's grip and the two of them had run like the devil was after them. He was eventually caught and his dad fined, but he had been filled with the fact that it had been so _easy_. He had almost got away too. From then on, he had stolen until he had honed his skills to perfection.

Getting a pack of cigarettes was no problem. Dallas continued on his way insulting girls, calling out at guys he knew, and going in and out of different stores. He ended up in a magazine shop thumbing through _Playboy_ and other stuff like that. The storeowner found out what he was doing, however, and kicked him out. It was getting into the late afternoon and he had just walked two blocks away from the shop when a guy grabbed him from behind and spun him around so that they were face-to-face. Dallas didn't get time to see who it was, because another guy had slugged him in the face. Sprawled on the ground, Dallas was soon surrounded by three guys. All of them looked like they meant business, but one guy was smiling. Dally knew those green eyes, red wavy hair, worn jeans jacket, and scarred face.

Chapter 3

"Damn you Miles," Dallas snarled as he stayed where he was, knowing any move would invite more blows. Miles Barker was a street kid around three years older than Dallas, and with a reputation of a quick temper. Miles had run away from his drunk of a father's home and had lived in New York all his life. He was a hood, he was born a hood, and he would die a hood.

Miles and Dallas had hated each other since they laid eyes on one another. Dally never understood why. They were two of a kind if they saw through to each other. Be that as it may, Dally was now at the mercy of Miles and two of his gang. "Say Winston,' Miles had a rasping voice after his old man had hit him when he was a baby, 'how'd you like to see what your face looks like after we rearrange it for you?" The other guys sniggered, and Dally knew he was gonna have to fight, "What's the matter, Winston? Lost your voice?" Now the other guys were laughing hard.

Quick and without thinking, Dallas retorted with a snappy rude comeback, deliberately swearing at least ten times. Miles stopped smiling instantly. He was dangerous when angry. "Being smart with me, Winston? Fine." Dallas, knowing it was useless to get up, let alone fight, shut his eyes tightly bracing himself.

All of a sudden there were yells, footsteps, and sounds of fighting. Dally opened his eyes in time for Miles to fall down hard on him after being pushed. Throwing Miles off him, Dally looked around to see the other two running away. His gang had found him. Laughing, he kicked Miles' rear end as he got up after his cronies. Then he turned to the six friends he had known for the past two years of his life in New York. Hoods that he called friends.

Ralph Monsey was fifteen, brown-haired, 5'5 and stout in all means. He was a dropout from high school and had loved the freedom ever since. He lived on the street, having a mother who cared about her new boyfriend more than her son. Ralph was a smart, enduring kid and could take pressure really well. He was also a strong fighter and anybody who fought him knew personally. Dally liked Ralph; he was a loyal friend and was a great help when you needed him.

Tim Shepard was Dally's best friend. They were around the same age and thought exactly alike. Looks were their biggest difference. Tim had rough, blue-black hair to Dally's light blond, and while Dally had light blue eyes, Tim's were black. Tim had been in New York for a while now. His parents, his 10 year-old brother named Curly, and his 9 year-old sister named Angela lived down in the southwest, but Tim was living with his uncle and two older cousins. He was going to be a hood all his life, just like Dally.

Moe Freeman was the oldest of the gang at twenty-two years old. His skin was rough, and scarred by childhood allergies. It was the colour of milk chocolate. Moe was a Bob Marley fan and had fashioned his black hair into dreadlocks. He owned a variety shop in one of those pedestrian malls. His business kept him away from the gang a lot of the time, and besides, he didn't care about fighting too much anyway. He was the only one of them who had completed high school and it showed. He was the smartest one of them with the most sense. He always had something to say for the moment.

Roy Fisher was the most physically strong of the gang. He was seventeen, tough, and with a face that gave the impression to people that he was all brawn no brain. Brown curls and a dullish face that lied about Roy's actual intelligence. He was as streetwise as the rest of them and he had the experience. He had been on the street ever since the age of nine after his parents died and his 26-year old cousin adopted him. He had more sources than anyone. He was like a Mafia Leader with all the favours and friends he could turn to for help.

Chuck Lloyd was the youngest at thirteen years old, and he tried desperately to overcome it. He was skinny, quiet, but streetwise enough. He was great at hotwiring cars and stealing because he had the look of an innocent naïve kid, which made people trust him on sight. Chuck always seemed awed by people like Tim and Roy, but the whole gang had always accepted him. He was a great help with girls, as he had good looks for a hood, with reddish hair and milky skin that was freckled around his nose. Chuck was always there for the gang, even if they were doing something he didn't like. He could have had a great future, but he would always put the gang first.

Bill Florence was the hardest one of the gang with the biggest police record, the toughest reputation, and the most tragic past. His father had been murdered and his mother, short on money, had become a barmaid to support her son. Bill had been only five when this happened. Rumours said he had eventually found his father's murderer and had cut his throat. Whatever happened, his mother had been terrified to death of her son and had dumped him onto the street. It had left him with a hatred of the world and a desire to run wild so as to bring the world down with him. Bill was solid rock, hard, with a face that seemed to be chiselled out of stone. He had long black hair that he greased so that it rolled up, curving to the back of his head. He was sixteen, dangerous, tough, indestructible, and bitter.

"How'd you get surrounded like that Dal?' Ralph was always curious about stuff, no matter what it was, 'I mean, you're not blind, how'd they do it?"

"If you gotta know, it was unfair. The morons grabbed me from behind and slugged me," Dallas explained with a grin on his face. He pulled out his unopened pack of cigarettes. "I swiped these earlier. Anyone want one?"

Soon the whole gang was lounging around smoking and talking. Dallas was glad he had friends like these; they were the right kind for him.

Roy looked at his wrist, forgetting he didn't have a watch. "Hey Moe, what time does your watch say it is?

Moe checked his watch. "6:00 pm. Why?"

Roy smiled, then got up and started walking towards the nearest alley. He said only one name to the rest of them, but it was all they needed to hear. "Frank Miller."


	2. Friends, Enemies, and Girls

Chapter 4

The other greasers got up and followed Roy without question. The seven friends went into a dark alley and came into a vacant lot surrounded by buildings, alleys, and wire fence. This was the centre of Frank Miller's gangster empire. Graffiti covered the alley walls telling anyone entering what was inside. There were four guys there, who drew switchblades at the sight of the newcomers. Roy and Bill were common sights however, and they were welcomed as was the rest of the gang.

Bill nodded at them, "Frank?"

One spoke for all four of them, "He's been out and around. He'll be back soon."

Dally looked them over. They all had the traditional leather jacket on with the name 'Miller' on the back of their jackets. These were the true hoods of New York, the ones who caused trouble, the ones who were scared of nothing.

Dally, for the second time that day, was caught from behind when he felt two sharp edges on his neck and a handgun muzzle on his back. He smiled thinly, "Back so soon Frank?" the muzzle and edges disappeared and Dallas knew it was safe to turn around. There were around fourteen guys crowding the alley, all holding a switchblade. Dally shook hands with the first three, who were the Miller boys, two brothers and a cousin of the same family.

Jeff Miller was seventeen, tall, all muscle on the outside, and all bitter on the inside. He was the iron fist behind Frank's steel one. Jeff had a burning passion for greaser life and despised all law enforcement. He was a hard guy, but he had pride in the life he led, especially in his walnut-coloured swirls of greasy hair.

Matt Miller was a husky, streetwise hood with a tough but handsome face. He was one of those hoods that were better with his streetwise brains rather than his fists, but he was no slouch of a fighter. Matt had black hair and black eyes and a tanned face. He could sense a cop or a rival gang without even opening his eyes.

There was no denying that Frank Miller was the leader of the Miller gang. At eighteen, with cold-green eyes, ebony-coloured hair, and a scarred face with a broken nose, he was like Bill Florence; tough, bitter, dangerous, and violent. He was one of the most powerful gangsters on the wild side; come to think of it any side, of New York. Jeff and Matt, his two cousins, were his most trusted members, but he was without doubt the leader.

"What's going on Dallas?' Frank Miller was looking cheerful, but you always had to be aware that it was Frank Miller who was talking.

"Not much,' Dally's answer was quick and toneless. Bill and Roy were chatting away with Matt and Jeff and the others just mingled with the rest of the Miller Gang.

Dally noticed something was going on at the end of the alley, 'hey, what's up?"

Two figures came quietly into the lot. One called out, "Hey, look what we found!" Everyone turned to see what was going on.

Two of Miller's gang had stolen a wallet off some guy. It looked like the guy had a couple a hundreds to burn, because the wallet was made out of black leather with gold and silver designs. There was at least four hundred dollars inside. Dally didn't feel too interested, which was understandable because the possibility of getting some of that money was impossible. One rule with the Miller Gang was that you kept what you stole, and you were never forced to share. But it looked like no one would benefit from the loot because there was the sound of sirens in the air, getting louder and louder.

Dallas, Chuck, Roy, Tim, Moe, Bill, and Ralph were the first to react to the cops' noises. Ducking behind a dumpster in the alley they came in, they watched the Miller Gang split into a dozen pieces faster than a cheap wine bottle hitting a sidewalk. Dally could pick out Frank ducking a policeman and running into the nearest alley. The cops got into groups of three, trying to make an organized search. Dally almost laughed thinking about it. Seeing New York's Finest trying to catch the Miller Gang in the maze of alleys and buildings that they knew better than their own names was a hoot. The cops gave up quick enough. They knew when they were whipped. They were on the Miller's turf. No point chasing a pack of rats down their own hole.

Dally and the others got up and started walking away, when out popped Frank Miller and his two cousins and three other gang members right beside them. Even Roy and Bill were shocked at how fast they had gotten away. Frank explained with his usual bitter grin on his face, "We been leading them cops all the way to Chicago and back, the dirty…" he continued by naming the police of New York anything negative and rude he could imagine sounded good.

The others laughed. Frank had never even gotten close to getting caught. Chuck looked at the setting sun as they got out of the alley, "Its getting dark. I better get going." As he was leaving, Roy ran after him.

"Hey wait up, Chuck, I gotta go the same way as you, anyway,"

Dally curiously looked at Frank, Jeff, and Matt, " Where are you going?"

Frank nodded at Jeff and Matt and turned to leave, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." He said this cheerful enough, but Dally knew that he should keep his mouth shut right about now.

He turned his attention to Bill, who at this point was the only guy left, "Say Bill, instead of the streets, lets go to my house. All we got to deal with there is a moron who once called himself my father."

Bill looked at him for a second, then nodded, "alright"

Chapter Five

Dally's father gave no objection to Bill's staying. In fact he wasn't even there when they arrived. He came in just as they got into their beds, and as usual, ignored his only son. Bill was sitting upright on his bed, and Dally contemplated on whether to ask or not. He didn't need to, because Bill smashed his fist into the wall in silent fury. Dally stood upright, "Hey Bill, what are you…"

"I hate it!" Bill screamed and lowered his head.

Dally was surprised, but not shook. Bill was capable of having a temper like this, and he had good reason. He had been rumoured to have killed a guy to avenge his father's death, his mother had abandoned him, and everyone except other hoods disliked him.

"Hey man, what's wrong?" Dally asked.

If Bill had never cried in his life, this was the closest he'd ever get, "I just can't stand this bedroom!"

Dally was puzzled, "Why?"

Bill looked down. "The last time I was in a bedroom was when… when… Look just shut up alright!" He got up and was about to leave, when he turned back, fighting to keep his voice level, "Sorry Dal. Its not you." He then turned around and left. He would probably get drunk, as Dally knew he was capable of doing, and if he got drunk enough, he'd rob a corner store on the street, or do something against the law, which was quite likely. Dally got up and followed Bill into the local park. Bill was sitting on a bench. He looked cooled off now, but looks were deceiving.

Bill saw Dally coming, "What are you doing here?"

Dally shrugged. Bill didn't pursue the subject. "Dal, have you ever just wanted to do something big, something that lashes out at a lot of people?"

Dally thought about it. Come to think of it, he had sometimes just wanted to let out the anger against his father out on something or someone. Like that teenage boy he had beaten up. "Yeah"

"Well someday I'm just gonna snap and take as much out as I can." Bill had a feverish voice, and Dallas couldn't help thinking about what he knew about Bill.

Bill had always seemed tough and unfeeling. Dally couldn't help wondering about the famous rumour that had turned Bill into a killer. "Bill, did you really kill a guy when you were eight years old?" He immediately wished he hadn't said that, because the long look that Bill gave him would have been enough to send a full-grown grizzly bear running home. Bill finally spoke, and when he did, it was like the sound of two rocks grinding together. "Listen Dal. You or anyone can think whatever they goddamn want about me, but I am never going to tell the truth. Ever!" Dally was convinced that Bill was going to crack any time soon. He looked ready to at least. "All right Bill all right."

Bill looked away, with that look on his face not changing a bit. Dally got up and left.

Chapter Six

Bill looked much better the next day. He was back to normal, for the moment at least. Dally and Tim decided to go to Central Park. Bill, however, claimed he had other plans, and only Roy went with him. Moe was at work, so Chuck joined Dally, Tim and Ralph.

Central Park was a huge place, like a forest. Dally never went there often, but it was a great place for the average New Yorker, to be away from all the hustle and bustle for a few minutes.

The four hoods caught a few stares, some in admiration, most in disapproval, hate, or even fear. They didn't seem to notice.

There was this one place in the whole park that Dally liked best. It was this huge tree, maybe the oldest one in the whole park. He had always loved to climb it and view New York City. He didn't hesitate, and was staring over the tops of the trees in a minute. Tim was halfway up, seeing if he could catch a squirrel. Chuck was reading a book at the base of the tree, and Ralph was walking around, trying to look for cardinals' feathers, which was a strange hobby he had taken up while he was still in school.

Dally looked at the horizon due south. He knew that was where Tim Shepard's family lived, but why would they live down there? New York had all the action in America rolled up into its dark alleys where fights were common. Dally remembered his first organized gang fight, where he had beaten up two at once, standing over the unconscious leader of the gang that Dally had been with. It had gained him a reputation, as well as Roy and Bill's respect.

Dally's thoughts were broken by girls' screams. Tim must have stuck his head out at the wrong time. He now lay hidden behind a clump of leaves. He wildly mouthed to Dally to come over, and when he did, they listened to the girl. "You son of a…!" she went on until she ran off, still swearing. Tim was looking half shocked, half dazed, and when he turned to Dally is face had a surprised triumph to his face, "Come on. Let's beat it before she comes back with the fuzz!"

"Hey, you two up there?"

Chuck and Ralph had wisely bolted when Tim had been yelled at, and were now looking for the two of them.

"Yeah, alive and kicking!" Dally yelled, laughing as he swung down from the tree. Tim followed. The four went to the southern end of the park, which was darkening as the sun was setting. Dally looked at Tim, who was describing the beautiful sight of an angry squirrel he had seen in the tree. Dally shook his head.

They had all gone their separate ways a few minutes later, so now only Tim and Dally remained. The two were walking down the street, when two girls came walking the other way.

These weren't the average girls in New York. If God made female hoods, these were his creation. Dally figured that most girls made bad hoods, with a few exceptions like these. Tim liked them because sometimes if they got drunk enough, they would do anything for a pickup. Some however didn't need to get drunk to want a pickup, and these two were plainly sober. Dally and Tim sped up, because these girls were giggling and pointing at the two hoods coming their way. Dally looked at Tim, and could tell what was going through his head. Dally decided that he wanted the same thing. And it was right in front of him.

The two girls came up, looking them down. Dallas and Tim did likewise, with more eagerness and interest. The girls were obviously related, as they had the same eyes, hard and hazel-coloured. One had short, orange, bushy hair; the other had brown, wavy hair down to her shoulders. They were both around the same size and age. Dallas guessed they were either fourteen or fifteen. The redhead had a jeans jacket and a pair of jeans pants. The brunette had on a thin, buttoned-up shirt, and jeans pants. Both were really attractive-looking.

Tim was in the dream of his life, "So, what are you two fine ladies doing here?" he asked in mock courtesy, hinting that he knew perfectly well what they wanted, and he wanted it too.

The redhead, who had developed an interest in him, giggled and responded, "Ooooh aren't you a cutie? What's your name?"

Tim put up what he thought was a drawn in and mysterious face, "Even I don't know." He whispered, and then joined the redhead in her peals of laughter, "Tim Shepard, and that there's Dallas Winston. And you?"

The brunette, who had been staring at Dally, answered, "I'm Lucy, and that's my cousin, Sandy.' Sandy turned back to Dallas and commented, ' I haven't seen you before, handsome, where are you from?"

Dallas, who had begun to look tough, shrugged as if he didn't have a care in the world. That was his strategy tonight.

Sandy giggled and, for some reason, nudged Lucy. She looked at him for a split second and looked away again.

Dallas smiled, and he folded his arms, "Well now, aren't you gals are beautiful? What do you think Tim?'

Tim acted as the big toughie again, "You sure you two want to go into the alley with two dangerous hoods like us?" He laughed.

Sandy smiled, "What could happen? We're asking you guys." She laughed.

Dally and Tim exchanged glances. Bill and Roy would turn green when they heard about it! The four went into the alley. Tim and Sandy went out of sight.

Dally watched them, and then turned to face Lucy, who pulled him around so that he had his back to the wall. Lucy faced him. Dally studied her face. He could somehow tell that she was using the same tactics he had been. She now seemed to have a look of hesitation in her face. Then he smiled warmly at her. It wasn't part of his strategy, he had suddenly felt a strong affection for Lucy, who smiled and slowly brought her head close to Dallas. Time flew after that, until Dally didn't know how long it had been. He didn't care one little bit.


	3. Murder

Chapter 7

Later, both leaned against the alley wall in a patch of moonlight. Dally looked at Lucy, shining in the moonlight. Dally had once read that the ancient Greeks believed that there was a goddess of the moon. Well, if there was a moon goddess, she was right beside him now. He smiled and moved closer to her.

Lucy suddenly stood, looking at Dallas, "Dallas, do you love me?"

Dallas' mind began working. What was she talking about? Do I know for sure about my own feelings? Do I just love her for her looks? Then something clicked in is mind. She probably felt the same way about him, so who cared? "Yes" he answered, and he thought he meant it.

Lucy truly smiled with happiness, and lay down beside him, "Great, because I love you too, Dallas Winston."

Dally looked puzzled, so Lucy explained, "I've loved you ever since I saw you in the newspaper. You had beaten up some guy after he had knocked out your friend. You did that because your friend was hurt. It was so gallant and brave of you, and you just looked so good for a ten-year-old, I just had to meet you before I die." She smiled, "I hope we'll be able to see each other again."

Dally then said something even he was surprised about, "So you want to just talk now?"

Lucy nodded eagerly, and Dally grinned.

A few more hours later, Dallas and Lucy started leaving the alley, each with a new hoard of information about the other.

Lucy kissed Dallas once, and then gave him her phone number and address; "My uncle hates me, so there'll be no problem with you coming over."

Dallas did the same, "My old man don't care either." He stroked her hair, and then turned to look for Tim. The alley had really gotten dark now and his vision was badly affected by it. Suddenly screams rang out, and Dally went stiff with shock as he heard a gunshot, which was followed by several others. Dally grabbed Lucy and the two ran out of the alley. Lucy looked terrified, and searched Dally's face as if begging for an answer and at the same time extremely relieved that both of them were still alive. Dally stared at her, but shook as a horrible shock ran through him.

Tim and Sandy were still in the alley.

"Tim!" He ran back into the alley, pulling out his switchblade. He continued to call over the screams and gunfire, "Tim! Tim!"

"Dally! Help me!" Tim came charging from the other direction, bleeding from his side and leg.

Dally grabbed him and pulled him out of the dark alley. Lucy grabbed Tim and held him as he stared in horrified shock as Dally came out with Sandy, who was also bleeding. Dally staggered out while holding up Sandy. Lucy, who had found that Tim could stand on his own, rushed to Sandy with a look of horror on her face. Sandy's eyes, wide in shock, kept staring into Lucy's. Dally looked her over. Sandy had been shot in her arm, both legs, and when Dally looked at the back of her head, he turned and threw up. Lucy began crying as her cousin slumped over, dead. Tim was devastated and suddenly yelled out "Dally!" then fainted in a limp heap. Dally checked him over too.

Shock. And his wounds weren't serious. Lucy had stopped crying, but still looked ready to as she closed her cousin's eyes and covered her face. Dally took off his shirt and covered Tim with it. After putting on his leather jacket again, he turned to Lucy, "I'm sorry."

Lucy shook her head, "Don't be, Dally. You did everything you could," She stiffened as sirens were heard in the distance. Dally looked to see three police cars and two motorcycles coming to them. Policemen came running by the dozen, yelling at Dally, "You there. Hands up. Now."

Lucy shrieked, "Run Dally, run!' She knew Dally would get arrested for a crime he didn't commit, and she would save him. She got in the way of a policeman, 'Damn it, Dally, run!"

And Dally ran. He ran as fast as he could, as far away as possible. He was sick with shame about leaving Tim and Lucy to those morons, but he couldn't help them by going to jail, and maybe even the electric chair, for a crime he didn't commit. He began crying as he ran, and he thought of Sandy, Lucy and Tim. In his grief, he ran blindly down an alley and into at least twelve figures. He screamed as he backed up into a corner. He screamed his name out, hoping that would help. Then the one light in the lot brightened up and Dally could see who it was.

He had found Bill, Roy and the Miller Gang.

"Dally, what's wrong?" Roy pushed his way through the crowd and looked hard into his eyes.

"You aren't like this Dally,' Bill looked surprised, 'are you feeling fine?"

But Dally just broke down and sobbed.

One member made a comment on Dallas. A few laughed, but one look from Frank Miller silenced them. He motioned for his cousin, Jeff, and then nodded at his other cousin, Matt, "Matt, you're in charge until I get back. Jeff, let's get this poor little kid out of here. Something's happened and he came to tell his pals about it. He won't talk here, so let's get him out of here."

Chapter 8

Later, at around 2:00 in the morning, Dally was telling Bill, Roy, Moe, Ralph, Jeff and Frank what had happened. They were in Ralph's house. Dally told them everything that had happened. Frank grinned when Dally told about Lucy and Sandy, 'Good on you Dal' he had said, and if the time weren't so urgent, Bill and Roy would have agreed. At the end, Dally almost started crying again when he thought of the fact that he had run away and had abandoned Lucy and Tim. No one thought less of him though, and Frank supported him, "Hey, you were about to get arrested. We have a rule in my gang that it don't matter if you abandon the other members if the cops show. Besides, Tim will be fine, and even if Lucy what's-her-name hates your guts, well, at least you got to kiss her first." He laughed, thinking about it.

Dally was also thinking about Lucy. Thinking of that time in the patch of moonlight when Lucy had said she loved him. No one had ever said that to him before. The gang was his family, and there were very little arguments. But they just weren't enough sometimes. Dally had been enchanted by Lucy's appearance at first, but the hour they spent talking had revealed a lot about her.

She was suffering as much as he was. Her uncle was a drunk who kept slapping her, her sister was away from home, graduating from college, and she was desperately in love. It seemed to Dally that from the way she talked, Lucy had poured all her secrets and inner problems out for him. No one had ever trusted him like that. The gang mostly kept their inner conflict to themselves, not wanting help, with a few exceptions, like Bill's outburst only last night. Last night, however, was a long time ago. That was now in the far past.

Frank and Jeff left soon after Dallas had finished telling the story, and Ralph went to bed after Dally had felt better. Roy had gone with Frank, but just as Bill was about to leave, Dally yelled out, "Bill wait." Bill turned. "Come back here."

Bill sat back down, "Yeah?"

Dallas felt really silly asking Bill Florence this, but he could not stop, "Has anyone ever told you they loved you?"

Bill looked at Dally with a look in his eyes that hid what he thought. Then, eventually, Bill responded, "No"

Dally suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for Bill, who had got up again, "I'm sorry." That was the second time that night Dally had said he was sorry, and he got the same reaction. "Don't be, it's not your fault," Bill shrugged. He left, leaving Dally with his thoughts.

Chapter 9

Tim Shepard was back after two days in the hospital. His injuries were not serious, though he would be limping for at least a month, the doctors said. Tim came back, looking for Dally. "Hey Dal, you all right?" Tim had said cheerfully to Dallas after giving him a playful punch. Dally felt terrible, "Save it Shepard. I don't deserve to be treated like that. I shouldn't have run off like I did, I…"

"Look, man. It's all cool between us. What could you have done? I probably would have done the same." Tim was still Tim. Seeing that made Dallas feel a lot better. He laughed with the others, and accepted a cigarette from Moe. Tim looked at Dallas suddenly, "You know, that girl, Lucy, they questioned her and me on what happened."

Dallas froze. "What did they ask?"

Tim chuckled, "They wanted a detailed story of what happened, and all that bullshit. Lucy confirmed that you were with her and had helped Sandy and me out of that alley. Trouble is, those boys in the station still want to question you. They don't think you did it, at least, they're considering other things that could have happened."

Tim said a few other things, but Dally had tuned him out. He was thinking about Lucy. He still had her address and phone number; he would go see her.

Dally stopped at a house in one of the worst parts of town. It was in the suburbs, a long way from where Dally hung out. Dally looked at the house. It was in bad shape, considering what Lucy's uncle was like.

At least it was quiet. Dally could hear the soft plucking sounds of a banjo from the patch of grass seven houses down the street that was supposed to be the park. When Dally looked in the direction, he could see a group of hippies listening to a banjo player. Next door to Lucy, a senior man was reading a book on the porch of his house. Dally could barely read the title of the book, something like _For whom the Bell Tolls_. Dally was puzzled by that, and he wondered why a book would have that kind of a title. He didn't have too much time to think about it, because suddenly there were screams, door slamming, and Lucy ran out of the house swearing as her uncle bellowed at her to get out.

Lucy was still herself. She must have gotten over her cousin's death fast enough. She was muttering swear words as she walked of the porch, but she lit up quickly when she saw Dallas. "Dally! God, its good to see you." She exclaimed, running up to him. Dally didn't say word as he took her into his arms and kissed her.

After a minute or two, Lucy looked at him with a bit of concern, "Dally, I'm so glad that you're not in jail. When they were questioning me, I was so nervous about what to say. Plus, Sandy's, well…"

Dally thought she'd cry again but she didn't. She just hesitated, saying nothing. Dally broke the silence, "Say, uh, Lucy, what happened in there, your uncle annoying you again?"

Lucy nodded bitterly, "Yeah. Especially since he heard about what had happened to Sandy. He started yelling at me, screaming that I had killed her. It's not the first time that he's kicked me out, though" She added when she saw Dallas' face, "He's hit me before, and I catch him staring at me once in a while. God, I sometimes think he'll stop staring and really live up to what he says he'll do,"

Dallas said nothing. He wondered how she could live with all this. At least he could fight back if his old man tried pushing him around.

"Lucy, I know an okay café right by where I live. I'll treat you to supper sometime if you want." Dally felt really stupid asking Lucy this, and he was sure that she would think so too.

On the contrary, Lucy looked at him with a look of delight in her eyes, "Really? Thank you so much Dally." Soon it was settled between the two of them. Dallas would come and pick her up the next day, and they would eat at the café.

Dally walked down the street, rubbing the spot on his cheek where Lucy had kissed him before going back inside her house.

He officially had a date now, but he had two problems; where would he get a car, and where would he find some cash? He had to think fast about this, as they had agreed on tomorrow at seven. As he walked down the street, he could here Elvis Presley on some guy's record player.

"Damn it." He cursed as he tried to think of a way around these two problems. He thought of people who might have a solution to this. Ralph? No way. Roy? Probably not. Frank Miller? Yeah right. Dally couldn't think of anyone. Then, something clicked in his head. Moe closed his shop at 6:45 for fifteen-minute break. He could drive Dally and Lucy to the café before re-opening his store.

'Great. One down, one to go,' Dally thought to himself. All he needed now was money to pay for lunch.

The next morning, Dally arranged the ride to and from Lucy's house. Moe was happy to do something for his friend. But Dally still needed the money.

"Hey Dal! I got something for you!" It was Ralph.

Dally turned as Ralph ran up to him, breathless.

Ralph handed his hand out to Dally, indicating he take what he was holding, "It's from Arty Chop. He struck gold, oil, and diamonds in the latest race bets. He's giving all his friends a bit of what he won, and even then he'll keep six hundred for himself. Man, if I had his luck, I'd be the richest man in the world."

"If you had Arty Chop's luck, you'd be on the streets in a week." Dally stared at the rolled up bills, which totalled up to about a hundred and fifty dollars. Was this his lucky day? All his problems were now solved, and thanks to Arty Chop, he could keep a little extra for himself.

Arty Chop, or Arthur Chopkins to the police, was a nineteen- year-old New York greaser who was either penniless or rich, and his luck could change in a matter of hours. Dally liked old Arty Chop. Arty considered Dally a friend ever since Dally had gotten him out of a spot of trouble only six months ago. Arty Chop was the kind of guy everyone wanted as a friend; it had nothing to do with his knack for winning (and losing) small fortunes. Arty was a very optimistic guy with not a care in the world for what happened outside of New York. He had an excellent charisma that everyone loved, and now he had saved Dally's butt.


	4. The past casts a long shadow

Chapter 10

Everything went according to plan. Dally and Moe drove up to Lucy's house, waited for her to get in, then they started on their way to the café. On the way, they saw Tim, who was crossing the street. Dally waved, and Tim waved back.

Moe waited until Tim had left, "That boy's changed."

Dally looked at Moe, "What are you talking about, Moe? Tim's fine. Sure he's still limping, but there's nothing wrong with him."

Moe just looked at him, "It's in his eyes. Soon he'll act differently, and you'll remember what I said. A kid his age don't stay the same after he's been shot in the leg, let alone watch another person die. Even you've changed. I don't know why, but it's like that. Tim ain't the same, and soon enough you'll realize it."

It was odd. Moe was only twenty-two, and he could sound like he was eighty-five. Dally tried to take what Moe said off his mind as he went back to kissing Lucy.

Dally meant it when he said it was a good café. It was small, but the food was great. It was mostly a café where the hoods and greasers went. It was called 'Big Bob's Cookout', because it served all kinds of grilled meat, including steak on weekends. The owner's name was Bob Henderson. He was married and had an eighteen-year-old son and a sixteen-year-old daughter. Both, like their two parents, worked in the café. Dally had always gone there, but now he was on a date. It seemed unreal to him now.

Bob's daughter, Katie, whom Dally had once liked, smiled when Dally came in, "How you doing Dallas? I haven't seen you in a week, what've you been up to?"

Dally grinned sheepishly like he always did when Katie smiled that way. It reminded him of when he had secretly wished to be able to buy her lunch.

She didn't say anything about it when Dally introduced Lucy to her. Katie didn't do things like that. Instead she was polite, as she always was when someone she knew came in with a date.

Katie took out a notepad and pencil as she leaned over the counter, "So what will you two take tonight. Dally will tell you it's steak night, and we have great prices."

Lucy checked the menu, "I think I'll take the chicken wings with a side of soup,"

Katie wrote it down, and then looked at Dally, "Dallas?"

Dally didn't need to look at the menu, "Steak with an order of fries, medium grilled, thanks,"

Katie smiled, "The usual then," and went to the kitchen in the back.

Lucy looked around, "It's very nice, this place."

Dally nodded proudly, "Glad you like it. All my friends like it."

The food was great, as usual. Dally always enjoyed his meals at Big Bob's. The prices _were_ good. Only twenty- four bucks in total.

Katie collected the money; smiling at the eight dollars Dally always gave her as a tip, "Thank you Dallas." She left them in their privacy. That was one thing Dally really loved now about Katie Henderson's personality.

Chapter 11

"Goodnight Dally. Thanks again for everything." Lucy kissed Dally for the third time since they had gotten onto Lucy's porch. The evening was cool, the atmosphere quiet, and Dally loved it. He loved New York, he loved the gang, and he loved Lucy.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't a hood and my niece. Beautiful match-up," A slurred, sarcastic voice loomed out of the peaceful night air. Dally broke away from Lucy and looked around. It was Lucy's uncle.

Dally looked him over, remembering Lucy's cousin, Sandy. She and her father shared many looks; red hair, brown eyes, high shoulders. There were also differences though. Sandy had had a slim body; her father had gained much weight after years of heavy drinking. His eyes were beady and bloodshot. He had lost a few teeth, and most of the others were blacker than Jeff Miller's temper on a bad morning. He was also drunk.

Lucy stared coolly at her uncle "This 'hood' has been generous enough to pay dinner for me. Dally is more of a gentleman than you will ever be."

Dally watched as Lucy's uncle wheezed in amusement. He turned to Dally, all amusement gone from his face "Dally, eh? Short for Dallas Winston, I suppose? You were in the newspaper with her, weren't you? When my daughter died. So how much did you and your slimy cripple of a friend have to give to the cops before they let you go? Lucy always was a sucker to tough guys." He stopped to vomit on the sidewalk.

Lucy was horrified. Dally looked grim, and he stood eye-to-eye with Lucy's uncle "Listen _sir_. I love your niece (Lucy's eyes glowed). You can say anything to me, you can hit me, you can shoot me on doomsday, and I don't care. But you're not going to say crap to her while I'm around. And another thing, Tim is my friend. He almost died like Sandy did. I actually got her out of that alley. And another thing, I'm going to find out who killed your daughter. I swear on anything you believe in, I will."

Lucy's uncle was close to tears. He staggered for a minute, not saying anything. Then, gulping, he spoke "If you do what you just said, I'll never forget you, son." He started sobbing.

Dallas stiffened. No one called him 'son'. Not even Dally's own father had ever called him son. Dally hated the word.

Lucy came up to him, softening him by touching his leather-clad arm. He looked at her "I'll do it."

Lucy looked depressed "That's what I'm afraid of."

Chapter 12

"You? Mister Dallas 'I am a hood, not a hero' Winston?" Tim looked astonished.

Dallas looked puzzled. He had thought Tim would not hesitate in helping him, but now Tim had a look that seemed to Dallas that he thought he was crazy.

Tim shook his head, "I think you've gone soft, man. Before you met Lucy you were a hood. Now you're turning into some soft, love-sick dope."

Dallas looked angry "Listen Tim. Sandy died and I'm not going to stand here and let those killers, whoever they are, get away. I don't know what's wrong with you, but maybe you're just jealous that Lucy's still alive and the girl with you died."

Tim hit him, screaming "Shut up! You damn well weren't the guy who got shot. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DOES TO A KID!" He stopped, with a shocked look on his face.

Dallas still lay on the ground, tears welling up in his eyes from pain and surprise. Moe's words echoed in his mind, '…soon he'll act differently and you'll remember what I said… even you've changed…'

A hand pulled him up. Tim was looking ashamed as he apologized, but Dally knew better. They had both changed, and things wouldn't be the same.

"Well if it ain't my old pal Dally! How you doing?" It was Arty Chop, Ralph and the rest of the gang. Dally and Tim were both happy as they greeted them. Arty Chop had a way of easing a rough situation between arguing friends.

Arty Chop actually had information that could help Dallas. He had heard rumours that Miles Barker (Dallas' eyes narrowed at the mention of Miles' name) had paid a bum to purchase three firearms for him. If the rumours were right, Miles had gotten those guns the same day Sandy was murdered.

"That's unbelievable! It can't be true!" Chuck seemed to find it impossible that someone he knew was a murderer.

"He's nasty enough," Arty Chop replied, earning a smile from Dallas.

Ralph agreed, "Dallas and Miles hate each other, and he would know Tim is a good friend of Dallas. Sorry Chuck, but the evidence is against Miles." Ralph may have dropped out over a year ago, but he had never completely lost the vocabulary his teachers had taught him.

Roy smiled, thinking of what they were going to have to do, "This is leading to a rumble, boys. Going onto the Barker turf won't go unpunished from Miles."

Moe looked at him, "Roy, we're good, but I doubt we'd survive a beating from Miles."

Dallas turned to the friends he had known for almost three whole years. Judging from what Roy said, he was coming. But the others might think differently.

He spoke "Guys, we're going to be outnumbered if it comes to a fight. I don't want to force you to come. I'll understand if you don't want to do this." He waited.

No one spoke. Each was thinking. Finally, Bill stepped forward. He had not said a thing at all, and he was the first one to step forward.

After a minute, Roy stepped forward, followed by Arty Chop and Ralph. Chuck and Moe were the last people to step forward.

Dallas looked at Tim, the only one who hadn't moved, "I don't blame you. No one does."

Tim nodded awkwardly, "uh… Good luck you guys."

With that, Tim walked away, not looking back.

Dallas knew he had to forget Tim now, as he turned to the friends, "Thanks guys, it means a lot to me." He somehow felt as if he had tested his friends, and Tim, the beloved best friend he had known for so long, had failed the test. It hurt Dallas, like a red-hot poker in his heart. But the pain lifted slightly as he looked at the determined, loyal people who did not abandon him in time of need. He could have cried at the sight, as well as Tim's desertion.

Emotion must have shown on his face, because Arty Chop quickly spoke, "So, let's get going then."

The Barker gang had their turf not very far from where Moe had his business. Instead of the Miller Gang though, the Barkers had their hangout by the old train tracks. Dallas and the gang had no trouble where to go. There was a series of graffiti on the alley entrances. Most on the outside (therefore, the ones everyone saw) were addressed to teenage girls. It was all rude stuff; including mentioning what the Barkers did to girls. Arty Chop looked at the messages and smirked. His friend's brother had once been in the Barker gang, and he had seen that the Barkers meant what they wrote.

There was no one in the alleyway, or at least that's what Chuck said when he took two steps inside and had hurriedly jumped back out. Nobody blamed him; none of them wanted to go in there alone. Bill got over his hesitation however, by pulling two pistols from his pocket. Dallas and the others stared. Roy spoke for them, "Er… Bill, how long have you had those?"

Bill's voice was like granite, "All my life."

With that, he went into the alley. The gang held their breath, until they heard Bill whistle a tune that signalled them to follow him.

The rail tracks, illuminated by some lights, were abandoned. There was nowhere in sight, any sign of people being there.

Chuck looked around nervously. Despite the lights, there was still a lot of darkness, "I've got a real bad feeling about this guys."

Even Arty Chop agreed, "Say do any of you guys feel like… you're being watched?"

Suddenly Miles stepped up from behind a pile of stones, "Well, well, well. If it isn't mister Dallas Winston and company."

The darkness gave birth to around thirty hoods with the yellow 'Barker' on their sleeves.

Dallas and his friends backed up into a small ring facing the snarling Barker gang. Dallas glared at Miles "All right Miles fess up. You bought three heaters, and the same day a girl got shot. I know you're behind it."

Then from behind Miles, a low, calm voice called out, "Clever one aren't you Dallas? I doubt you'd remember me by sound, but what about sight eh?"

Miles grinned as a husky, red-haired teenager with a broken nose stepped out into the light, along with nine other Barkers, except that they had yellow 'Barker's on their fronts, obviously representing their importance. But it was their leader that Dallas had a bad feeling about. He had on jeans and a plain sweater. His eyes were a dark hazel.

Dallas froze with shock and fright. It was the same guy he had beaten up three years ago! "No, damn it, no. It's not true! It…!" Dallas went speechless.

The guy smiled, purposely showing two missing lower teeth Dally had knocked out, "Well now. Isn't that just grand! He knows me in two seconds!"

Miles laughed, "Allow me to introduce Charlie Barker, _my older brother_." He added smugly.


	5. A fight, and three Deaths

Chapter Thirteen

Dallas shook his head. It was a huge mistake coming here, and he had dragged his friends into it. He glared at the Barker brothers, "Let the others go. This is an argument between the three of us. They have nothing to do with it. I'll fight; but leave my friends out of it."

Arty Chop looked over at Dallas with a bemused expression, "We ain't going nowhere, buddy boy. We volunteered to come. We knew what was in store, and we've made our decision. We're staying."

The others agreed.

Miles laughed, "Well isn't that just pretty. You're all one big happy family, except I don't see Tim anywhere. Do you know where he is Dally? Was he too chicken or something?"

Stung by the mention of Tim's desertion, Dallas retorted with a set of insults and swear words he always reserved for Miles.

Charlie laughed, "Tim chickened out? Wasn't he the one we shot? It's too bad we hadn't shot you, because then your friends wouldn't be here. Plus your _girlfriend_ would be safe."

Dallas didn't like the sound of that one bit, "What do you mean?" His voice had a dangerous tone to it.

Charlie smiled, "Well, you see, your girlfriend was a witness. We can't have that can we?"

Dallas roared out, "She didn't see a thing! How can you call her a witness? If you touch her, I'll tear you limb from limb! You hear me?"

Miles grinned, and then snapped his fingers, "I've been dreaming of this for a long time."

Unanimously, the whole Barker gang flicked out switchblades, which was followed by Dallas and his friends flicking out their weapons. Dallas looked them over.

Bill had fully loaded his guns and was now twirling them in his hands, his face showing nothing but raw, burning hate for the Barker gang.

Roy looked expressionless while fingering his switchblade.

Arty Chop had picked up a piece of lead pipe and was smiling cheerfully at the guy in front of him.

Chuck was looking scared to death as he tried to pull out the blade of his pocketknife. Moe was looking neither angry nor scared; his face seemed to either show regret for what he would now have to do, or pity for these hoods threatening him.

Ralph looked as nervous as Chuck was scared, his eyes darting from face to face; as if looking for something and not finding it.

Dallas wanted to break down and sob. He was doomed, and now his friends were doomed. Arty Chop's fortunes had been looking great, and now he was going to die. Chuck and Moe had had futures in store for them, which were now taken away from them. Ralph had been enjoying the freedom of running around with friends.

Dallas had failed them. And he wanted to give up and accept his fate.

He suddenly heard Charlie's voice, "So this is revenge Dallas Winston, and it won't end here. Lucy and Tim will end up just like you. Murdered.

"Wrong on three accounts Charlie Barker. Lucy ain't gonna die, Tim ain't gonna die, and Dally ain't gonna die." It was Frank Miller.

Twenty guys, the whole Miller gang, had come to the aid of Bill and Roy.

Dallas could have sung the national anthem in joy if he knew how it went. Yet he couldn't help wondering; how did they know where to come?

The answer was right beside Frank and his two cousins.

Tim and Lucy.

Dallas really did cry this time, three tears of joy flowed down his cheeks. They were saved!

Frank, his two cousins, and five members of the gang were levelling guns at the Barkers.

Frank smiled, "How about we fighting fair, Charlie? No tricks." Charlie and Miles, furious, nodded grudgingly. The Barkers pocketed their blades, as did the Miller Gang, and Dallas' company.

At first no one moved. Then Arty Chop yelled out happily "Up and at em, guys!" and had plunged into the sea of Barkers. The fight was on.

Dallas screamed as he slugged a guy in the stomach, and then turned to fight another. Nearby, he could see Bill fighting two at once. Arty Chop was laughing as he threw wild punches at anyone in his way. Chuck and Moe were ganging up on a big guy. Roy was standing over an unconscious Miller. Frank was supporting a half-conscious Matt Miller while Jeff provided cover. Everywhere people were slugging another guy.

Dallas sent the guy he was fighting reeling as he fought his way to Lucy, who was helping a struggling Tim against a Barker Dallas knew was named Roger Gents.

He was a seventeen-year-old dropout who often participated in jumping passers-by. Dallas hurled him to the ground, kicked his side once, and turned to the two people he loved most in the world. "Tim, I…" Dallas couldn't think of anything to say, and tried to prevent from hugging Tim. Tim smiled hesitantly, then stepped aside as Lucy and Dallas kissed.

Now it was the three of them sticking together as they fought the Barkers around them. Twice, they helped a Miller to his feet, all the while, the rumble raged on.

Dallas called out to a Miller named Fred Jenkins, who was being overwhelmed by three Barkers. Bill heard Dallas call out and with a roar, broke one guy's nose and started to pull Fred away from the other two.

Lucy shrieked in fury as a guy kicked Tim's bad foot. Tim wailed in pain and went down. Two guys jumped over Tim and attacked Dallas, while their friend held Lucy back.

Dallas was in a headlock with the other guy punching him. He couldn't take it. He was about to go down when the blows suddenly stopped and the guy head locking him let go of him with a howl of pain. Arty Chop and Ralph had come to the rescue.

"Arty! Ralph! Thanks guys." Dallas' face was in pain, but he still grinned.

Ralph provided cover while Arty Chop helped Tim to his feet, "I guess I finally returned the favour, eh Dal?" He laughed, then nodded his head to the left, "Bill said he didn't see Miles and Charlie fighting."

Sure enough, Miles and Charlie were hanging around on the sidelines of the fight, as if waiting for the opportunity to escape.

And Dallas would stop them once and for all.

Chapter Fourteen

Dallas fought his way over to Bill, who was using a half-conscious Barker as a shield, "I'm going after Miles. Want to come?"

Bill nodded, dropping the Barker in his hands. Together with Tim and Lucy, Bill and Dallas fought their way through guys.

Once or twice, he looked at Bill. What was going through his head? The guns had gotten Dallas thinking about Bill Florence.

He shivered and looked at Lucy, suddenly fearful for her, "You shouldn't have come."

She smiled and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, "You're right. You could have taken those guys single-handedly. You'd have died, but you always get them the second time."

Dallas rolled his eyes. Lucy. She was always bright, sweet, and funny Lucy. His gaze was interrupted when Tim yelled out loud. He turned, and saw Tim pointing at Charlie and Miles. They were a few feet away. If Dallas could just reach…

All of a sudden, the nine high-ranked Barkers they had seen earlier slammed into Bill, Dallas, Lucy, and Tim. Bill and Dallas were swept apart as they fought to stay together. But the Barkers outnumbered them and were fresh, whereas the four of them had been fighting for what seemed to them like an hour and a half.

Dallas slugged it out with a guy who seemed to be twice as heavy as him. Nearby, he could see Bill holding his own against two others. Where were Tim and Lucy? Dallas looked everywhere but he could see no trace of Tim or Lucy. The guy hitting him knew his business as he landed a hard one on Dally's nose. Feeling blood start to run, Dallas went down, trying to avoid the kicks aimed at him. It was no use, and it showed when the guy almost knocked him out. Dallas then felt hands grabbing him, taking him to the people he was after. Except he was defenceless, and their captive.

It took a minute for Dallas to see normally. The first thing he saw was the leering face he remembered so well now. Charlie's eyes lit up when he saw Dallas move, "Hey Dallas. It's good that you're awake man. Now you can watch as we break your heart."

How long had he waited for this revenge? Dallas wondered about Charlie for minute and then asked, "What happened to your girlfriend?"

Charlie looked stunned, then looked grimly at Dallas with deep loathing eyes for Dallas, "After all these years, now you think about her? Well, when she learned that you had been allowed out, she couldn't take it. Imagine watching your own friend get half killed by you. She was terrified, having nightmares all the time of you killing her and me both."

He took a breath and filled his voice with hate, "So she hanged herself! I wanted to die too. I had loved her; I was going to marry her or something. I wanted that rope round my neck. But instead, I vowed revenge, and I've built up to this moment."

"And now,' He spoke again, with the air of a man come to sweet revenge, 'you will feel the pain I have felt all of my life."

"Dally!" Lucy shrieked, and Dallas saw that two Barkers were holding down Lucy. Tim was right beside her, looking at Dallas with a look of warning and horror. Dallas then understood what was going to happen.

"Nooooo!" Dallas screamed, pulling out his switchblade and plunging it into the nearest Barker's side. The guy screamed and went down. Dallas charged at the Barker brothers in fury, waving his blade at anyone in his path. Suddenly there were shouts, gunshots, and Dallas saw Lucy stand very still, and then slowly crumple. The sight would continue to kill him for the rest of his life.

He didn't know how long or how loud he screamed. He seemed to have an endless supply of air in his lungs. He hacked at the Barkers blocking his path, not caring whether he missed or not. Soon he was charging headlong at Miles. He pocketed his blade and beat Miles into pulp before Miles could turn around. Dallas was reliving the rage from three years ago.

Dallas dropped the unconscious, bleeding Miles, and attacked Charlie screaming swear words. This time Charlie saw him coming and it became a bloody fistfight. Charlie was bigger, but had none of Dallas' rage.

Rage, however, would not win this fight. Charlie pinned Dallas down, gasping for breath, "So it's come down to this then. Dallas Winston finally met his match!"

Dallas struggled one last time as Charlie took Dallas' switchblade from his pocket. Charlie raised it near Dally's neck, smiling, "It's over Dallas."

Dallas struggled against Charlie's bulk and stone-hard grip. Revenge had given Charlie invincibility in the face of his sworn enemy. Dallas gave one last sob, and waited for Charlie to plunge the switchblade into his heart.

What did it matter? Lucy was dead, and now he would die. He could have fought back, but time with Lucy had occasionally made him see that violence was ridiculous. Even when those feelings were gone, they lingered on a little inside him. Now he would die.

Suddenly, a gunshot was fired, and Charlie was blown off of Dallas, dead. Dallas lay there, stunned for a second, and looked around wildly.

Bill Florence, the toughest of the tough, stood there, as if in a movie pose, with a two guns in his hands.

Dallas dared not look behind him. He wasn't in mind to see Charlie's body. He had had enough. Slowly he got up, staring at Bill with a scared expression on his face, "You've done that before haven't you? You've killed someone before."

Bill's eyes flickered, and then looked away. Dallas turned to see what he was looking at.

Lucy.

Tim was sitting beside her body, looking sad. The rumble had ended with the death of Charlie. Miles was unconscious, and the Barkers had fled in all directions. The victorious Miller Gang had cheered while picking up limp comrades. All were hurt in some way, whether a broken nose or a kick to the head. Frank Miller, a black eye already forming on his face, was standing by Tim, along with Roy, Chuck, and the rest. All had bruises and Ralph had actually cracked some ribs, but they still stood there as Dallas and Bill walked over.

Lucy was still alive. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she struggled to live a little longer. Her eyes, flickering, glowed for a minute when Dallas bent over her. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She tried again, and whispered, "Dallas… Thank God you're okay…"

Dallas went sick with shame. Here she was, dying, and she was thankful he was alive. Tears were flowing down his cheeks as he stuttered, "I-I should have saved you. You shouldn't be dying now. I should."

Lucy shuddered, and then smiled weakly at him, "I don't mind…dying, I just wish I hadn't seen all this violence…" She coughed, and her last words were barely heard, "I love you Dallas… I love you." And Lucy died.

Dallas bowed his head and sobbed. The others didn't know what to say. Tim brushed a tear out of his eye. Bill looked angry, then turned away. Chuck looked devastated. Everyone seemed to share Dallas' sorrow.

Dallas got up and turned away from Lucy's body, "Guys, I…" When he tried to speak, all that came was more tears. The others came forward to comfort him. Though they couldn't take away Dallas' pain, they would try to ease it.

They looked up suddenly at the sound of sirens. Frank and his gang melted into the darkness, just as a lone police car showed up. Good Old Frank. He was always on the lookout for the authorities.

A cop came out of the police car. He had a bulldog-like face with shifty eyes, as if looking for something. Or someone.

And that someone was Bill. As soon as the cop saw him, he straightened up, patted his belt, and walked over to Bill. The two stared each other down, displaying their hate of each other.

The cop pulled out a paper, chuckled dryly, and then looked at Bill, "I doubt I need to ask who you are, eh? Bill Florence?"

Bill's voice lowered dangerously, "Yes, that's me,"

The policeman handed Bill the piece of paper, and grinned tauntingly when Bill simply stared at the words he couldn't read, "What's the matter Mr. Florence? Can't you read?"He said these words with disgust for Bill.

Bill stared at him like he wanted to cut the guy's heart out and eat it.

The policeman took back the paper, looking at Bill with no sympathy as he said, "Your father is dead. Am I right?"

Bill could have slugged him as he muttered, "Yes he is,"

The cop looked right at Bill, hatred in his voice, "And your mother abandoned you, right?

Of course she did. She had the sense to do it at least. I spoke to her just recently, and she hardly mentioned you."

Fury slowly left Bill's face and to the surprise of the others, astonishment replaced fury. Dallas could somehow see a tiny bit of hope in Bill's eyes.

Bill spoke, "My…mom?" It was as if Bill was learning a new word he had never heard of before.

The policeman nodded, "That's right,"

Now there was a sudden eagerness in Bill's voice as he stepped forward, "What did she say?"

The policeman looked grim, "Not too much. She died ten minutes after I arrived."

Bill suddenly looked as if he was being sentenced to the electric chair, "Dead?"

The cop nodded again, "Just four days ago,"

Bill's shoulder's sunk, and turned away from the cop.

Dallas and the rest were shocked. Bill's stone face had melted, leaving a mortified, broken-hearted one.

Bill staggered to the alley wall. He leaned against it, covered his eyes, and cried.

The gang had never expected to see this. Bill, the scourge of New York, crying. Dallas felt as if he shared Bill's pain. Bill had been alone for most of his life after his mother had left him for dead. How many nights had he cried? He had had nothing, and he barely had anything even now. Roy, the gang, and Frank Miller and Co. were definitely something, but they could never replace Bill's parents. Not in a million years.


	6. Changes in all their lives

Chapter Fifteen

Bill lifted up his face as the tears flowed down his cheeks. He was feeling the pain of betrayal a thousand times worse than in the park.

Roy, who had been Bill's best friend for eight long years, looked at the policeman, who had not moved at all, "What did Bill's mother say about Bill?"

The policeman filled his voice with disgust, "If you want to know, she said she was glad she had left him on the streets. She wished she had never given birth to such a monster like him,"

He turned to look at Bill's back, "If you were my kid I'd have shot you like your mom should done. You're the worst person anyone's ever met. Don't you even think about the people you hurt, the mother whose heart you broke? You are …"

AAAAAARRRGGH! YOU BASTARD! YOU SON OF A …" Bill screamed as he turned around. He pulled out his two guns and, to the horror of the others, fired at the cop. The policeman's body flew back,twitching every time another bullet hit him.

Bill's face was full of savagery. He screamed like a wild man as he poured bullet after bullet into the cop's body.

Bill took a deep breath, and fired his two guns again. They were both empty. Bill jammed his hand into both pockets and came out twice with handfuls of bullets.

Dallas was terrified. Bill was maniac. He remembered Bill's words in the park, '…someday I'm just gonna snap, and take as much out as I can…"

Suddenly there was a roar of sirens as police cars drove up on the distant road. Bill, as soon as he heard the cars, ran into a nearby door that opened to the alley.

Without even thinking, Dallas followed Bill into the building.

Bill had dropped beside the first window and began firing at police cars parking by the alley.

Dallas was scared as he came up to Bill, "Bill? Why are you doing this?"

Bill rolled to the side just as the cops' bullets hit the window, "I've had it Dal. I can't take anymore of it. I went soft and I got blasted."

Tears of fright and loneliness rolled down Dallas' cheeks. He had never cried this much in his whole life as tonight, "Bill, come on… please!" he screamed the last word as the cops responded with another hail of bullets.

Bill looked at Dallas, "I've been waiting for a day like this, Dal. I've killed a guy. What should I do, surrender?"

Dallas wanted it to end. He begged to Bill, saying stuff he never thought he would ever say, "They'll help you, Bill. They can help you change, Bill. Just stop."

Bill laughed, "_They help us_? Society has turned it's back on us Dal. We have to fight for survival."

Bill was serious. He was going to die fighting. His face was all stone again. He was Bill Florence again.

Dallas wanted to get out of here. He wanted Tim and the others to be here with him.

Just when he had finished thinking this, Bill grabbed his arm, "Come on. We're getting out of here."

Dallas looked at him, shocked, "How? There must be fifty cops down there!"

Bill gripped his guns, "I know."

There was another door in the building that opened to the road. It was how Bill was getting out. With Dallas following, Bill kicked the door down.

The policemen hesitated. It was all Bill needed.

Roaring out his challenge, he fired both his guns and yelled, "Come on, Dal!"

Both boys ran through the streets of New York with at least five police cars chasing them.

Eventually, they were in a deserted parking lot. Dallas had regained his panic.

The cops had never been far behind. Bill looked in the direction of the sirens.

He then turned to Dallas, "Dal, I'm through with running. I stop here."

Dallas looked at his friend, "What do you mean?"

Bill said nothing as he handed one of his guns to Dallas, "Take it. It's all I could ever give you."

He leaned over to Dallas as the cops came closer, "Remember Dallas. Get tough, and nothing can touch you. Remember that so you don't make the same mistake I did."

Suddenly a police car slid to a stop at the lot entrance.

Bill turned away from Dallas. The cops were getting out of their cars. Bill aimed his gun at the nearest one. Four or five others fired before Bill could pull the trigger.

Bill Florence died a violent young man, a maniac, and a criminal. No one would miss him outside of the gang. He was gone the way he had planned; destructive.

Dallas had screamed when Bill's body had fallen down for the last time. One of the cops yelled at him. Tossing Bill's gun into the bushes, Dallas sobbed. A policeman had reached for him. And Dallas fainted.

When he woke up, he was in jail. The cops questioned him, demanded answers about Bill.

Dallas said nothing. He now felt like finishing what Bill had started. Policemen, he saw, had ruined his life. They had taken away Bill from him. They had changed Tim. Now he was in jail.

So what? He had been in jail before.

But not this long. Two months went by before the cops decided Dallas would never talk.

Dallas was back on the streets. The story of Bill and that night was in every newspaper.

People were talking about it everywhere. And Dallas was Exhibit A on the street. People stared at him as he walked by, loathing his very footsteps. Dallas didn't care.

He walked down the street, occasionally yelled at from passing cars. He yelled back every time, sometimes stunning the drivers.

After a whole day, Dallas found Ralph, Roy, and Chuck.

Even they seemed surprised at seeing him. Roy, half-asleep, had stared at Dallas as if he was walking out of Hell, "…Bill?"

Dallas was taken aback. How could Roy think he was Bill? Bill was dead.

Roy rubbed his eyes and looked again, "God, Dallas. What happened to you? You look just like Bill!"

Dallas looked into a puddle and stared at his reflection. His face seemed to have hardened, his mouth turned permanently down, and even his eyes had changed. They blazed with hate, and seemed to radiate coldness. Roy was right. He was Bill.

He looked up again, not noticing that Chuck took two steps back when he saw Dallas' eyes, "So what's new?"

Ralph shrugged, "Nothing much since the night Bill died. We got away from the cops easily enough. Then we just tried to set life straight. Moe went back to his business, and the rest of us just tried to get over what had happened. We're still trying to. I even went back to high school."

Dallas looked them over. They were suffering. Roy's eyes were half-bloodshot. Chuck was looking scared. Ralph's shoulders seemed to have sunk down. He spoke, "What about Tim and Arty Chop?"

All of them exchanged looks. Finally Roy spoke, "Arty's getting by better than us. And Tim… well… Tim's gone."

Dallas didn't understand, "Gone?"

Ralph nodded, "He left to go to Tulsa, he said. You know, Tulsa is where his family is…"

"…I know where his family lives." Dallas snarled.

Roy looked surprised. Chuck almost whimpered.

Dallas stepped forward, "Where can I find Moe?"

Ralph muttered, "He's taken the day off. He'll be around."

Dallas turned and walked away from three people he would never see again. He didn't look back or say goodbye. He was a new person now. Dallas Winston as they knew him had died with Bill that bloody night.

Moe was sitting in Central Park when Dallas found him. Moe looked pretty much the same, except for a bruise on his forehead.

When Moe saw Dallas, he didn't flinch as the others did. He looked sad, as if he pitied Dallas, "I had a feeling you'd come looking for me. I suppose you heard about Tim?"

Dallas nodded. Somehow, he felt no sadness for Tim's departure.

Moe turned to face him squarely, "So what are you going to do?"

Dallas shrugged, "There's nothing for me here. I'm dead in every New Yorker's eye."

Moe looked bemused, "Well, if you're dead, what are doing telling tales?" It was a bad joke, and Moe got no answer. He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that you still have people here who care for you."

Dallas shook his head. He had alienated Ralph and the others. There was no going back.

When Dallas said so to Moe, Moe put his hand on Dallas' shoulder, "Dal, don't you worry about what happened. They'll understand, we all do."

Dallas stepped back, fury on his face, "That's just it, Moe. You guys don't understand how I feel." He felt so angry, he had to restrain himself from pulling out Bill's gun.

Moe looked oddly at Dallas, "But we're trying to, Dallas. We want you to know you've got us. We're trying to put everything back to normal…"

Dallas whipped out his gun and screamed, "Shut up, you here me? It's never going to be the same! Lucy is dead, Bill is dead, Tim's gone, and every damn person in New York hates my guts! I've had it! And you just shut up with your damn sermon!"

Moe didn't bat an eye, he just looked contemptuously at Dallas, "So you're going to follow Tim to Tulsa? Stay there the rest of your life? Forget us and everything?"

Dallas nodded, "Yeah." He pocketed his gun, "You got a problem with it?"

Moe looked disgusted, "No I don't. Go ahead, run away and don't look back. I hope I never have to see you again."

Dallas spat, and turned to leave Moe, the gang, and a New York that had turned it's back on him. He once called it home, but now he was leaving forever.

Chapter Sixteen

He had stolen aboard a train heading for Tulsa. Dallas had snuck inside, and waited.

The trip took a long time. Dallas had to get out at stops to get more food. He got his food either by stealing it or buying it with the money he had gotten from Arty Chop a long time ago. Surprisingly, no one even guessed that a fourteen-year-old hood was stowing aboard the train.

Then one day, after what seemed like years to Dallas, the conductor yelled out "Next stop; Tulsa."

From that time on, Dallas had stayed awake for a whole day. Tulsa was just round the bend! He was almost there.

Yet, when he jumped off the train for the last time, he felt no excitement as he looked around. A lot of the cars were patched up, there were a lot of greasers on the sidewalks, and some of the buildings were old.

Dallas walked through the city, insulting girls, swearing at the snobby kids who yelled 'Greaser!' at him, and just not caring where he went.

Finally, Dallas found a small park with a couple of benches. It was deserted, except for a couple in the bushes. Dallas ignored them as he sat down. He lay back and wondered what he'd do next.

Some yelling in the distance suddenly interrupted Dallas' thinking. When he looked up, he saw a group of well-dressed people pushing a young greaser into the park. Dallas couldn't see the greaser's face, but he knew a jumping when he saw one.

Somehow, Dallas felt he had to help this kid. He got up and crept up behind the greaser's tormentors. They now had the kid on the ground, taunting and occasionally kicking his legs.

Dallas pounced. He brought his fist down on one guy's shoulder, and kicked another guy in the shins. The kid had gotten up and slugged the guy whose shin Dallas had kicked.

The well-dressed guys, thinking they were outnumbered, fled down the street. Dallas spat at them, and turned to the kid, "You okay?"

The kid was obviously a shy, quiet kid, and now this tough hood in front of him awed him. He tried to shrug off the fact that he had been beaten up, "Yeah… I'm okay?"

He stood under the streetlight and when he lifted his head up to Dallas, Dallas almost screamed and took a couple steps back. Lucy? Back?

But when Dallas looked again, he convinced himself it wasn't Lucy, but still, they had a lot of similarities. If Lucy was standing next to him, they could have been brother and sister. This kid had a lot of looks Lucy had had. Dark hair, dark eyes, and almost the same height.

There were differences, however. Lucy's eyes, even after a fight with her uncle, were always bright and happy, always optimistic. This kid's eyes showed what kind of a life he had at home. His eyes had a suspicious, frightened look to them. Dallas thought he looked like a lost puppy in a crowd of strangers.

Dallas spoke after a minute, "What's your name kid?"

"Johnny. Johnny Cade." The boy answered, "What's yours?"

"Dallas Winston"

That was how Dallas Winston met Johnny Cade.

Epilogue

Three years later

It was a peaceful night for a lot of the people who lived in Tulsa. For some, a rumble had just ended. For two people, it was a time of sadness. Their friend had died in the hospital.

One of the boys went back to tell his friends and brothers. But the other would not stay so peaceful.

Three police cars, answering to report of a robbery, chased a lone teenager through the city. He was seventeen, looked like a criminal, and acted like a dangerous animal. He had robbed a grocery store, and was now on the run.

Dallas Winston ran as hard as he could, tears from Johnny's death still rolling down his face.

First Lucy. Then Bill. Now Johnny. It was more than he could take. He had loved Johnny as he had loved Lucy and the gang. Johnny, to him, was Lucy returned. And now both were gone from him. There was no point in living.

He would have wanted to see Two-Bit Matthews, Tim Shepard, and the others again. And he also would have wanted to see Moe and the guys in New York. He wanted to apologise, beg for forgiveness. It was too late. He should have hardened like Bill had told him to.

Get tough and nothing can touch you.

That advice was the advice he had remembered. But he had lowered his guard anyway. Now he was blasted just like Bill had been.

Bill's empty gun felt like a part of him as he clutched it in his hand. He didn't want to kill anyone like Bill had. The way he was now, he couldn't possibly shoot someone. All he wanted was his own death.

And now he would get it, because he always got what he wanted.

He ran into a vacant lot. He had secretly called the others and told them to come to this lot. He could see them running up to the lot, screaming at Dallas. Dallas recognised Ponyboy's voice. They knew what he was going to do.

He turned to the people he had hated and swore at for three years. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the nearest cop, smiling as he felt the bullets hit his body. He turned from the impact. He was dying.

Just after he had thought this thought, a voice called out, 'Dally.'

He looked and, to his amazement, saw Johnny. 'No,' he thought, 'I'm seeing Johnny's ghost.'

Johnny was shining blue, he face was unscarred, and he was smiling. He beckoned to Dallas, 'She'll be here soon.'

Dallas didn't understand. Then, another voice called out, 'I love you Dallas.'

Dallas could have cried with joy as Lucy's spirit shimmered into his vision. Amazingly, she looked older, sixteen at least.

Dallas barely noticed it as he called her name. Lucy and Johnny smiled as another person appeared.

Bill Florence looked at him, giving him a grin Dallas had never seen on Bill's face before. Bill was at peace, as was Lucy, and Johnny.

Bill, Johnny, and Lucy waved as Dallas' vision clouded and darkened.

At that moment, Sodapop Curtis, holding back his friend, Steve, said, "Easy buddy, easy. There's nothing we can do now."


End file.
